'Why not? It isn't hard to pretend you are bandy-legged. Lots of boys pretend they are bandy-legged when they see me coming.'

'It would be rather tiring to have to continue the pretence for two or three weeks. Moreover, I haven't a beard.'

'You could say you had shaved it off.'

'That would mean that I should have to shave nothing every morning, just to keep up the deception. If I didn't, the crew would wonder why my beard didn't grow. But, joking apart, I am very anxious to make a trip in the _Sparrow-hawk_, and if you, at the last moment, will pretend that you are too ill to go aboard, and will send me as a subst.i.tute, I will pay you your wages, and give you a present as well.'

'I agree, sir,' the fisherman declared, promptly.

'When does the _Sparrow-hawk_ sail?' Charlie asked.

'In two days' time.'

'Then I must buy my outfit to-morrow. Where shall I meet you to-morrow afternoon?'

'At the Fishermen's Home, sir.'

'Very well. I will be there at four o'clock, and here is half-a-sovereign for you, to show that I am in earnest.'

'Thank you, sir,' the fisherman exclaimed, and departed, more than ever convinced that journalists were the most generous fellows in the world.

(_Continued on page 198._)

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

V.--THE FIRST ASCENT IN ENGLAND.

Though the English people, on the whole, disbelieved the tales they heard of the French balloonists, they became very interested when a certain young Italian, named Vincent Lunardi (Secretary to the Naples Amba.s.sador), gave out that he was willing to build a balloon and make a voyage in it. Those devoted to science contributed willingly to the expenses, and large crowds paid to be allowed to see the balloon while it was being made. When nearly complete, it was exhibited in the Lyceum, and the arrangements made with the proprietor of that building very nearly led to disaster. He proved to be a greedy, dishonest man, and when Lunardi wished to move the balloon to where the ascent was to be made, he refused to let it go unless he was paid half of all Lunardi secured by the venture, and a large share in any profits that might be made on future occasions. Here was a difficulty Lunardi had not expected, and it came with many others equally unlooked for. When Lunardi first made the proposal, he had got leave from the Governors of Chelsea Hospital to ascend from their s.p.a.cious grounds; but, while the balloon was being made, a certain Frenchman had set up in opposition, and announced that he would give a display immediately. This promise he failed to keep, and the disappointed sightseers paid him back by breaking up his machinery. The idea of such a thing being repeated terrified the Governors of Chelsea Hospital, and they requested Lunardi to go elsewhere. He had just got over this trouble by being promised the ground of the Honourable Artillery Company, when the proprietor of the Lyceum refused to release the balloon. The Artillery Company, thinking themselves the victims of a fraud, ordered the apparatus, which had been sent to them, to to be thrown off the ground unless Lunardi found securities in five hundred pounds to cover any injuries their premises might suffer at the hands of the mob. But the proprietor of the Lyceum had overreached himself, and when the matter was explained he was compelled to give up the balloon, which was forthwith taken to the artillery grounds under a special guard.

Two days later the scene of action was thronged by a noisy crowd, and Lunardi has spoken of the dread he felt lest anything should happen to delay the ascent. While the balloon was being filled, he viewed the a.s.sembly from the upper storey of the Artillery House. Windows, roofs, and scaffoldings were crammed, while in the large square below, the people were so closely packed that it 'looked like a pavement of human heads.' And they were by no means orderly, for most had come with the idea that they were to be deceived. The arrival of the Prince of Wales, however, put them in a better humour, and in less than two hours after the appointed time, Vincent Lunardi carried out his promise. He would not risk a longer delay. Though the balloon was only two-thirds full of gas, and he had to disappoint a friend who had arranged to sail with him, he gave the signal and weighed anchor.

The grumblings of the fickle crowd turned to roars of applause, as the balloon rose slowly over the house-tops. The noisiest and the roughest there forgot the jests they had made at Lunardi's expense. And Vincent Lunardi forgot them, too, for his worry was over, and his long labour rewarded.

He had made his balloon without any valve at the top, and in order to descend, had fitted it with long oars, shaped like lacrosse sticks.

These he now began to work in order that the vast crowds, who had not been near enough to see him embark, might know that he was in the car.

But scarcely had he placed his hands upon them, when one of the oars snapped off, and returned to the earth. It was instantly broken into fragments by the crowd, the pieces being kept as relics by those who were fortunate enough to secure them.

Lunardi then gave himself up to the enjoyment of his voyage, and watched the great city spread beneath him till it became no more than a doll's town.

Over the common of North Mimms Lunardi again plied his oars, and landed, with the a.s.sistance of some country folk, in a field called Etna. Here he released a cat which he had brought from London. It had felt the coldness of the upper air considerably. A dog and some pigeons had also accompanied him, and with these he continued his journey, finally landing at Ware. A stone erected on the spot tells, to this day, the story of his adventure.

As regards his mention of the oars, it has been pointed out that, since Lunardi had to throw out ballast when rising the second time from Etna field, it is hardly likely that his descent was due alone to the working of the oars. It must have been through loss of gas, and he deceived himself in thinking otherwise.

London was delighted at the news of his voyage. George III., who had broken off an important state conference to peep through his telescope at the wonderful balloon, afterwards allowed the young Italian to kiss his hand at a brilliant levee. Military honours were bestowed upon him, and with fewer obstacles in his way he now made fresh flights.

But perhaps his greatest triumphs were in Spain, the king of which country gave him a residence in the royal palace at Madrid. Here, on January 8th, 1793, he made a grand ascent, taking with him a number of carrier pigeons. In the car of his balloon he wrote particulars of all he saw, with as much ease as he would have done in his study. Carefully folding the ma.n.u.script, he sent it on by one of the pigeons to the governor of Madrid. It was the first time that the world had ever known of a post-office in the sky, but, for all that, the letter was delivered as promptly as any one could wish.

Lunardi's cruises in the clouds were sometimes attended by great danger, particularly one he made in Portugal, on August 24th, 1794. It was a windy day, and when, on nearing the earth, he threw out the anchor, the rope snapped as it caught against a tree. The balloon rose to a height of three miles, and fearing that he would be blown out to sea, Lunardi pulled the valve-rope. Unfortunately this broke too, but enough gas escaped to cause the balloon to descend rapidly. A quarter of an hour later the car struck the ground with great violence, and a sack, weighing twenty pounds, was jolted out. Relieved of this weight it rose again, but less powerfully, and Lunardi found himself, a little later, being dragged and b.u.mped along the ground at a great pace. Some ignorant peasants, terrified by the balloon, ran for their guns, and the poor aeronaut was treated to a shower of bullets. Fortunately, the speed soon carried him out of range; then, seizing an opportunity, he leapt from the car, among a tumbling ma.s.s of ballast and scientific instruments.

When he found his feet, it was to see the balloon sailing at a great height towards the sea, and a few minutes later it disappeared from his sight for ever.

JOHN LEA.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The First Post-office in the Sky.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ALL HANDS TO THE PUMP.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "We were driven away from that truly hospitable house."]

THE BOY TRAMP.

(_Concluded from page 188._)

'There was nothing more to be done,' continued Captain Knowlton, 'till I reached England. Of course I had no idea that Mr. Turton had taken Mr.

Windlesham's place at Ascot House. I reached Southampton yesterday, travelled direct from there to Castlemore without touching London, and saw Mr. Turton. It appears that he opened my telegram the day after you ran away, Everard. By-the-bye,' demanded Captain Knowlton, 'I should like to hear just why you did run away?'

'When they thought you were dead,' I answered, 'and that my school bill would not be paid, and I should be left on their hands, they began to treat me as if I were a servant. I did not believe I should ever see you again; I knew I wasn't wanted there; I--I couldn't stand it, and I ran away.'

'Well,' continued Captain Knowlton, 'Mr. Turton didn't seem to know exactly what to say for himself. He explained, however, that he had paid Mr. Windlesham a long price for the goodwill of the school, and that he reckoned you as one of the most profitable pupils. He could ill afford the loss of your account, to say nothing of your being left on his hands to lodge and feed. Yet he a.s.sured me he had no intention to turn you out, although he saw no harm, in all the circ.u.mstances, in making you useful.'

'Still,' I exclaimed, 'he need not have made me black Augustus's boots.'

'That,' said Mr. Westlake, 'was evidently the last straw.'

I noticed that Jacintha watched Captain Knowlton's face with some anxiety, thinking, perhaps, that he would show signs of displeasure at my flight.

'Mr. Turton admits,' he continued, 'that since you had taken the law into your own hands, he made no effort to overtake you until the arrival of my telegram. Then, imagining you had turned towards London, he took the train to various towns on the way, and no doubt did his utmost to find you.'

'Oh!' cried Jacintha, abruptly.

'Well,' asked Mr. Westlake, 'what is it?'

'If I had told Mr. Turton where Everard was hiding,' she said, 'he would have explained that Captain Knowlton was alive, and everything would have been all right!'

'All's well that ends well!' remarked Captain Knowlton.

'Everard did not think it would end well the day before yesterday,'

cried Jacintha.

'The night is often the darkest just before dawn,' said her mother; but for my own part I kept silent, for, looking back only a few days, and recollecting what had been the outlook, I felt afraid of making an idiot of myself if I ventured to open my lips.

'I gave Mr. Turton a cheque,' said Captain Knowlton, 'and I am afraid I lost my temper. I saw the real state of affairs, and reckoned him up so candidly that we did not part very good friends.'